


Like This Is The Worst I've Done

by DearHeartx



Series: Fictober 2018 [19]
Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-19
Updated: 2018-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-23 19:06:45
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 520
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30060129
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DearHeartx/pseuds/DearHeartx
Summary: Oriana struggles to get to Solas after he falls on the battlefield.
Relationships: Female Inquisitor/Solas (Dragon Age)
Series: Fictober 2018 [19]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1802731





	Like This Is The Worst I've Done

Oriana’s eyes bloom with fear, the black of her pupil swallowing forest green. She watches as he staggers backward, blood spilling between the fingers he has clamped tightly over the wound. She makes one step toward Solas, certain he doesn't have enough mana left to heal it himself, when another venatori mage blocks her path. 

His arms have multiple slices where he has already begun to plough the depths of his blood magic. He sneers to reveal yellowed and crooked teeth, a small chortle escapes him. Ori doesn't have time for any of the venatori’s usual mind games. Her eyes flicker to Solas who has dragged himself to a crumbling retaining wall, to her great relief there is a faint blue glow between his hands and his wound, but the light soon begins to warble and his eyes close.

“Move or die.” She'd rather let one blood mage live and have time to save Solas than have to fight and lose him. 

The venatori laughs louder. “I think I'd rather watch you watch him die.” 

Her gut clenches in equal parts fear and rage. Ori is a calm, patient elf. Although she is careful not to be too proud, Ori is supremely aware of her superior negotiating skills and has used them on multiple occasions such as this. Ori’s calm demeanor is in large part due to Deshanna, who made sure she was raised to look for non-confrontational means to whatever ends she should seek.

Elgar’nan take calm.

Her fingers grip the rough hewn wood of her staff, knuckles turning white. Without taking a single step she sweeps the staff blade up the length of the venatori agent, slicing him from stem to sternum. She was already halfway to Solas by the time she heard the venatori’s body drop to the sandy ground with a dull thud. 

When she touches his stomach wound, careful to heal as quickly as possible without the adverse side effects of the influx of strange mana, Solas’s eyes fly open.

“Oriana…” His hand jerkily makes its way to her cheek, leaving a streak of blood where his thumb caresses her.

“Shhh, none of that.” She chides his hopeless smile.

His color slowly improves and he’s able to focus his eyesight far enough away to see the carnage she’d left in her wake, the quick and vicious strike of her blade to get to his side.

“Oriana…” his tone significantly darker and tinged with concern.

She stares at his violet eyes for a moment before answering, praying her thanks to the entire Elven pantheon for sparing the life of one apostate. Her forehead presses against his and relief floods her when she finds it warm, but not feverish. “Oh, please. Like this is the worst I’ve done.”

She makes a joke out of it because she knows he is uncomfortable to be the cause of such bloodshed—to be the cause of her despoiled virtue, now that she has killed for him. But if she were honest with him—or with herself—the streets would run red before she would even consider giving up on him.


End file.
